In Between
by fiveby10eighty3
Summary: A William-Daisy centric story that starts from the day he arrived in Downton, to the period covered by the series and his death. Other characters are also in. Please accept my apologies-I had problems posting the chapters so I had no choice but to re-post the whole thing! Please feel free to comment. Julian Fellowes and Carnival own Downton, of course.
1. A Birthday and an Arrival

_January 1912_

William Mason enjoyed the drive with his father-possibly the last one he would have in a long time. If he had his way, he would have walked to the small station where they had vehicles that could fit in as many as ten people inside. Buses, they were called.

He received a letter yesterday from Mr. Carson-the butler at the big house, asking him if he could come today, for an interview. Just a few weeks ago, when he told his parents that he intended to work for Lord Grantham and his family, William finally saw his opportunity-to be a groom. But his mother had other ideas. She wanted him to be a butler, lording it over at the big house. So, she asked him to apply for second footman instead. Because love for his family won, Mrs. Mason got her wish. William was excited just the same, even if he was to apply for the position of a second footman. He originally wanted to be a groom-the groom, Mr. Lynch (Mr. Carson wrote this as an aside) needed all the help he could have.

"Good luck, my boy," Mr. Mason whispered to his son, hugging him. "I have no doubt that you will get it," he said. William only nodded. "Right. But we best cross the bridge when we're coming to it," he said rather sagely. His father nodded in agreement. "I must go, lest your mother become anxious. I'll see you tonight. Or tomorrow."

William only nodded as he alighted from the cart. Butterflies already began to settle in his stomach, and his excitement turned to slight nervousness. "Chin up," he told himself. "Onwards to the breach." He walked to the back door (he was later to learn that this was where he should go to get the papers), and knocked, rather timidly, for the first time. He shook his head, telling himself not to be daft. No one seemed to hear the first knock, obviously. He tried again, a little louder, this time. No answer. Still.

* * *

Sitting on the foot of the servant's hall table was Daisy Robinson, in her blue checked gingham dress and grey apron. A cake, baked by Mrs. Patmore was on the table, with white icing and pink candy letters spelled out HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAISY. Mrs. Patmore sent out Gwen on an errand to Mrs. Hurst who owned the only sweet shop in the village earlier in the day to buy the candy letters. Apart from the cake, there were ham and cheese sandwiches, scones, fruit cake, small meat pies and of course, tea. For Daisy, however, was a cup of hot cocoa, her last day to drink it. The next day, she would be allowed to drink tea like the rest of the staff. Daisy eyed the food in wonderment. Before she left home for good six years ago, all she and her brothers and sisters had was porridge—everyday, and a bit of milk and sugar was already considered a treat. Even after she stated working as a scullery and kitchen maid, she never got over seeing food like this in great abundance.

"Thank you, ever so much," she told everyone in the servants' hall. These people were her family now, seeing as her _own_ family gave her up for good now. There was no use wishing to be brought back to them—although sometimes she wished she could bring all these good food that she ate to them sometimes—if only they would let her. The gifts were passed around to her and she opened them, giving exclamations of delight, and thanks being uttered to the gift givers.

Mr. Carson signalled to Mrs. Hughes about the last gifts, which was from Lord and Lady Grantham and their daughters. Mrs. Hughes nodded at him, and so, Mr. Carson excused himself for a while, which mystified the staff, especially Daisy. He came back with paper-wrapped packages, and a hat, which Daisy recognised to be Lady Sybil's boater hat. He put them in front of her, and said, in a gentle, fatherly voice that he rarely used, "Open these, Daisy." And so, she did. A dark red coat came from Lady Mary—she had asked Anna to let some stitches up to make the coat and its sleeves a little shorter—Lady Mary was tall and Daisy wasn't. A book called _Little Women_ came from Lady Edith. Mr. Carson said that Lady Grantham read that book as a young girl back in New York, and so, when Edith went to visit her Aunt, the Lady Rosamund Painswick in London, she went to book shop and bought it—the book was said to be highly recommended. Daisy was right in guessing that the hat came from Lady Sybil, with a packet of wide ribbons and a letter for her from Lady Sybil herself. Daisy saved it to read for later. The very last, and a relatively large package was a dress from Lord and Lady Grantham. Mr. Carson said, "They intended to give it to you on Christmas, but they decided to give it on your birthday instead. Your new uniform."

"Please thank them for me, Mr. Carson...I...I could have done it myself, but..." Mr. Carson nodded, and promised to extend her thanks.

The servants' hall now bore traces of a small party coming to an end. Charles Carson, the butler of Downton Abbey, was in a rare moment of joviality. Mrs. Hughes also wore that equally rare smile of hers. One of the servants, the kitchen maid Daisy turned fourteen today and the servants-from Mr. Carson to the two other maids under Mrs. Patmore surprised the young girl with presents during their tea time (extended for the benefit of the tea "party"). The under-kitchen maids Gertie and Milly each presented her with lemon scented sachets. Mrs. Hughes and Anna a packet of handkerchiefs, Mr. Carson, the newest issue of Photoplay (Mr. Carson privately opined that purchasing of such articles as magazines was a frivolous way of spending money, but a birthday was a birthday, and it didn't take much to make the girl happy). Gwen shyly pressed a tissue-wrapped packet which contained colourful bolts of hair-ribbon, "For Sunday, and I'm ever so sorry that it's all I could manage for now," she whispered. But Daisy all the same thanked her, and for an extra measure, hugged the girl she considered as her other older sister in the staff—next to Anna, of course. The other maid, Lily, was on her day off, but she, care of Anna, presented a letter writing set for Daisy.

Miss O'Brien and Thomas (in a _very_ rare spurt of kindness) clubbed together to buy a small box of new hairpins. All of these gifts were gratefully received by Daisy, who was moved to tears. Mrs. Hughes smiled at her, pleased that she was happy and gratified with the small tokens. After all, the poor lass hadn't much of a family. When Daisy first came to Downton, she was a mere scrap of eight, and it was apparent that whoever left her on the back doorstep of the kitchen, was determined to be shed of the duty of a young person's care and upbringing. And it was plain to see that Daisy Robinson had not been loved.

* * *

There was a knock at the back door, and Jerry, one of the hall boys ran to open it. It could be the butcher; to deliver tomorrow's meat, or the greengrocer's boy, who was to deliver leeks on short notice for Mrs. Patmore, Mrs. Hughes thought. Jerry returned. "It's a William Mason, Mr. Carson, said he's here to apply for footman," he reported. "Ah," said Mr. Carson. "Send the lad in." Jerry trotted back to the door, asking the visitor to come in. "Mr. Carson says yer to come inside. Come quickly, looks like it's gunna snow again today. Follow me," he instructed, and they walked to the servant's hall. "William Mason, Mr. Carson,"

"Ah yes," said Mr. Carson. "Good afternoon to you, William. Today is a rather busy day, as it's our kitchen maid's birthday, so we put up a small party for her. Now, come with me to the pantry. Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Patmore, please allow me to request Gertie to put some meat pies in a saucer and some tea for our young guest here. Now, come in to my pantry."

"Good afternoon," William greeted everyone in the hall, doffing his cap. He just got it for Christmas, and a new waistcoat—Christmas presents from his mother. He also wore the waistcoat today. His eyes fell on the birthday girl—Daisy. The girl had a pink and milk-white complexion—a milkmaid's complexion, he mused. She had dark brown hair and grey-blue eyes. Large, and long-lashed, he noted. Why he was taking note of her appearance, he didn't know. All he knew was that she had this fragile, delicate look about her, that made him want to have a chance to look after her. _Now, where did that come from?_

"William," called Mr. Carson again. He quite liked the look of the boy. Green about the ears, but if he was anything like Abner Mason, his son could be relied on. That much could be said. He hoped he was right, and he hoped William would not be corrupted by Thomas. Handsome though the lad may be, but has manners and ways like a viper.

"Come along, now. No time to be lost." William followed Mr. Carson to his pantry.

"I...I may not know much about being a footman, sir, but I do know something about carrying things and setting the tables and such," admitted William. "But I am willing to learn."

Charles Carson was happy to know that he was right. Abner Mason was a nice fellow with a large farm, and he raised his only son proper. William was polite, kind, and thoughtful. The poor man, his three other sons and his daughter died shortly after birth. William was the only surviving child, and was much loved. The boy surely knew the value of hard work, as he would stay up to tend to a sick cow or a horse, or when his mother was under the weather, he would help his father prepare food for them both, or for the farmhands. Constantia Mason may be physically fragile, but she was as amiable as her husband. The sad fact was, he was also right about William being green about the ears, but a malleable personality was very much an asset. Besides, William was too old to be a hall boy. This was the first gamble he would make and make young William Mason second footman.

"So...we shall see you tomorrow? But first, I'll ask Thomas to show you where the livery is kept and where you shall be sleeping. And we'll go up to Lord Grantham to meet you." He and William rose, and they went out of his pantry. Checking if there were still people in the servants' hall, he saw that most of the staff were still there.

"May I have your attention, please? This is William Mason, who will be second footman. William, this is Mrs. Hughes," the kind woman nodded, "and, Anna, Gwen, Jenny, and Lottie. Lily, the other maid is on her day off. Mrs. Patmore is our cook," continued Mr. Carson as he pointed to a red-haired rubicund, plump woman. "Gertie and Milly are the under-kitchen maids, and Daisy—our birthday girl—is our scullery maid. Mr. Watson is his lordship's valet, Miss O' Brien is her ladyship's maid. Tomorrow you can meet the others. Up we go now."

Daisy's eyes followed the young footman-to-be. She noticed that the other servants looked at him askance. The newcomer surely would need a friend.


	2. In The Early Morning

William woke up at four in the morning. A young, slender moon shone its light towards him through the bedroom window. Today was his first day at work, and being late wouldn't make a good impression on Mr. Carson. He sat up in bed, surveying the dim room. His clothes hung on the back of the balloon backed chair Mum bought at the church yard sale, while his cap sat on the chair itself, over a pair of shoes that he had painstakingly blacked and polished the night before. On the table beside his bed was a book that he had purchased from the same church yard sale-_Moby Dick._ He thought to bring it on his journey to his first job-and hopefully the _only_ job he'll ever have.

Constantia Mason was already up and she was starting breakfast and making bread at the same time. Her husband asked, "Is William up already? He has to, if he has an early start." Pausing, she knead the dough some more. "I will wake him, the water's boiling for his bath. But I suppose he'll be awake any moment now."

William slipped his feet on a pair of old moccasins and put a dark blue wrap over his shoulders. With the help of the moonlight, he was able to locate the white jug to collect water so he could wash his face. Hot, preferably. It would provide a bit of comfort in the bitter, cold early morning. He walked out of his room to the kitchen. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake up so late," he said. Holding the jug, he said, "Morning, Mum. I-I'd need some hot water...to wash my face." His mother smiled. "Away with you. A bath's what you'd need. It's in the room over there. I'll put your things outside the door."

Thirty minutes after, came out William, freshly clean and fully dressed. He already had his things with him-all inside a slightly battered Gladstone bag. He looked around the house-he wouldn't be there for a long time, in six months, at least. His mother, just finished packing some food and was putting it inside a drawstring burlap bag. She handed the bag to him and also a flask which contained tea with honey and store-bought lemon.

Constantia Mason's eyes glowed with pride. "Look at you, you dear one. Second footman today, and a butler someday. I don't want to fuss, but you best keep that coat on." William hugged his mother-tightly, he mused later on that he wouldn't have any of her hugs for months to come. "I'll be all right, Mum. And I'll write. Every week. I'll have so much to tell." Constantia only nodded and kissed her son goodbye. Then to her husband, "Abner, you two have a safe journey. There are two sandwiches in that bag, and a flask. The cap's good enough for a cup." Abner Mason nodded, and took William's bag from the chair. He nodded to William. "Come now son, let's go." William followed suit.

Outside, the wintry early morning greeted William and his father. Abner Mason put his son's bag inside the small wagon. Both men climbed on the driver's seat of the wagon, and the drive to the station began. "Are you looking forward to your first day at work, my boy?" asked Abner. "Lord Grantham's staff are ever so nice-the butler, Mr. Carson looks a bit terrifying, but he's nice, and doesn't put on grand airs. The two maids-a red haired one, and the golden-haired one-they're nice-I've yet to remember their names. When I came to the interview yesterday, one of the servants had their birthday. A kitchen maid, named Daisy. She just turned fourteen. And..and.." William was relieved that it was still dark, and his father couldn't see that he was blushing. He was probably red as tomato, with the cold, and his father saw it as that, _thank goodness._ "And you like the kitchen maid, don't you?" Abner finished for his son, rather shrewdly. "Oh..that is.." To William's surprise, his father laughed. "Your mother and I were beginning to think that you were blind. When you were fifteen, and still at school, I noticed many girls were making sheep's eyes at you. But of course in this case, work has to come first." His son nodded in agreement. "You better eat your sandwich, you'll be having a long trip. To stay your stomach." William, at this recommendation, took one of the sandwiches from the burlap bag, which was wrapped in a dark blue checked tea-cloth. "Bacon and cheese," he murmured, after he finished with his first bite.

* * *

Milly Flanagan was snoring again. Because of that, Daisy Robinson was awake at five in the morning, thirty minutes before she was due to wake. Viewing it as a blessing in disguise, she took her work dress along with a towel and other things. Yesterday was a long day, and she was tired out. Today was her scheduled day for the bath (the servants have a scheduled bath every two days with times for the evening and the night) and she would relish it. Baths like this were luxury, and it was some sort of treat for Daisy. Because it seemed like all she did in her whole life was to fend for herself.

But that wasn't true, Daisy thought, while scrubbing herself in the bath. Mrs. Hughes and Mrs. Patmore were there too. Mrs. Hughes might cluck disapprovingly when she did something wrong, and Mrs. Patmore might scream like a banshee whenever the porridge got burnt at the bottom of the pot, but she knew that it would have been different if she hadn't been left at the doorstep of the kitchens at Downton. Goodness knows what she would have been. But she also knew that these ladies cared for her. And she had two older sisters in Gwen and Anna.

But they weren't my real family, thought Daisy sadly. _My own family just gave me up. Gave me up as dead._

Daisy was able to finish her bath in fifteen minutes, and that included removing traces that someone had used the bath outside her schedule. In her three years with working at the scullery, she had learned to work quickly and nimbly, like Jack in the nursery rhyme. It wasn't being devious, it was just having to work smart, if you didn't want to hear Mrs. Patmore's banshee shrieks of fury or dismay (whichever situation was applicable), or Mrs. Hughes frown of disapproval. It was strange, but she began to think of these two older women as her mothers, and had come to love both as such.

Finally, she was ready. And her first task was to wake the servants.

"Oh Lord, here it comes," she said aloud to herself.

* * *

The bus dropped William off by the post office, because the church was two blocks away, and the church had a sort of short-cut to the big house. There, you might come across a friendly farmer who could give you a lift, which William was able to have. It was a long walk for someone lugging a heavy bag and in the early morning besides, so William was glad to accept the lift. The farmer giving him a lift was a friendly person, a man named John Drake, who asked, "Ah, you're going to be footman at the big house?" William nodded. The farmer nodded in approval and said, "The lord is a good employer as well as a good landlord. You're in good hands, lad. Where do you come from?" William came from the far end of the village, thus he and his parents had to take the bus to go to church. "At the very far end of the village, sir. Just between Downton village and Thirsk. My dad's a farmer, and I'll miss it." Drake understood, and nodded. The rest of the ride was in companionable silence.

Mr. Drake's wagon finally came to a halt. "Your stop, lad," he said with a grin. "Good luck to you." William tipped his cap at him, with a "Thank you, Mr. Drake, till we meet again!" and then he walked to the gate.

In the servants' hall, Mr. Carson was pacing the floor. "He's due to arrive soon," Carson grunted when Mrs. Hughes called his attention. "Being late does not bode well for his future here." Elsie Hughes frowned. "Now, now, Mr. Carson. What if the lad is on his way? He can't very well send a telegraph to tell us he's on his way, ease up now, will you." Mrs. Hughes bustled out of his pantry, the keys in her belt tinkling. She shook her head. Sometimes, the man can be too rigid. But he had a point. Tardiness wouldn't do. She hoped that the lad wouldn't come to any harm.

For now, Thomas Barrow, first footman, laid the table for breakfast. Until the second footman's arrival, his duties would double. He did not like it one bit. Thomas wished that the boy would arrive today, so he can dump his duties on the boy-what was his name? Walter? No, that was not right. William? Yes, that's the one.

* * *

Upstairs, Robert Crawley, Fifth Earl of Grantham, woke up unusually early. To him, "usual" was around seven or eight, but this morning, he woke up at six. Like Daisy (although he was not to know it), he viewed his early waking a blessing in disguise. Today would be a busy day, he thought. _Meet the new footman,_ he recited to himself in a whisper. _Meeting with Jarvis about the farms and the tenants-who's not paying up? Surely there must be some way to still keep them. And ask Carson to see to sending the fruits in store for Rosamund in London, and to ask Mary or one of the footmen to send a cable to send Mr. Mead to the train station. And speak to Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson about how things are going downstairs. Then there's luncheon with the widowed Agatha Spenlow. Cora won't forgive me if we missed this. _

Robert looked at the window in their bedroom. The sky was still dark, and it would remain so until eight or nine in the morning. It was snowing again, and he was amazed by the beauty of the falling snow. Other people may dismiss it as trivial, but he carried his fascination with falling snow into his adulthood. When Mary, Edith and Sybil were little girls, Cora would ask Mrs. Patmore to boil the maple syrup her mother had sent her, and then ask Andrew (before he left service to tend to a greengrocer's store and get married) to scoop snow into bowls for the girls, and then hot maple syrup would be poured into the snow into different swirls and curlicues, just like Sybil liked it. Mama said it was outlandish and _common, _but his daughters loved it.

He thought about the new footman. When Mr. Carson told him that one had passed his standards, Robert was told that the boy was a kind and pleasant fellow, and Mr. Carson said that although the boy was not well-versed in the life of service, William Mason knew the value of hard work and he was willing to learn whatever needs to be learned. It was not like Carson to make a gamble, but he trusted his butler's instincts. Carson was loyal to the bone, and a staunch defender of all things right and traditional that it sometimes drove him up the wall. Most of the time, he agreed with him, though. Thomas, it seemed, was not a great favourite of the butler, even if he did his work well.

"_My lord, he may be green about the ears, but William Mason knows the value of hard work, and he also possesses a teachable mind_."

"_So we'll take him then?"_

_ "It would depend on you, my lord. Philip Hardacre is a nice fellow and a good worker, but he is not tall enough. Edward Foster is gangly and clumsy to boot. William Mason may not be as seasoned as the other two candidates, but as I have said, there's never a more tractable mind than that boy's." _

_ "All right, Carson. We'll take him. Go down now and put the boy out of his misery. By the way, how is Thomas? He seems to be enjoying his promotion."_

_ "He is a good worker. And that is all I can say, my lord."_

_ "Thomas doesn't seem to be a favourite with you." _

_ "The young man still has a long way to go, and that is that, my lord."_

Remembering yesterday's conversation, Robert chuckled.

* * *

"Where is that William Mason now?" ground out Thomas, who was already done laying the table and accomplished the second footman's tasks as well. He thought that the young bumpkin of a farmer's son would arrive today and relieve him of the second footman's duties that he had already been doing for the past three weeks. The servants were already in the servants' hall, awaiting their breakfast.

"The boy's probably on his way, he lives far away from Downton," Martin Watson, Lord Grantham's valet tried to soothe him. "Easy on him, Thomas. Go easy on him."

"That wouldn't do, Watson," snapped Sarah O'Brien, Thomas' friend and partner in crime. "The lad has to toe the line if he wants to get on in service." To Daisy, who was filling the servant's tea, she barked, "Not enough tea, girl! This is less than half a cupful. Now come on back and pour some more." A chastened Daisy Robinson marched back and poured the tea into O'Brien's cup. As she looked up, she saw Anna and Gwen give her sympathetic looks. _You poor baby, _their eyes seemed to say.

A knock was heard on the door.

"Ah," said Mr. Carson. "That probably would be William. Nicholas, please open the door for William. Thank you."

"About time he came," muttered Thomas rather mutinously. Carson glowered at him and said, "_Thank you very much, _Thomas," implying that there was no gratitude in his reply to the irascible first footman.

Presently, William Mason came, cap in hand, apologizing profusely at his late arrival. "No matter, my dear," Mrs. Hughes said, her motherly instinct kicking in, provoked by Thomas' remarks. She had a very nasty feeling that the boy would be subject to the senior footman's bullying later on. "Have you had your breakfast?"

**Note: So sorry for the late upload! Things are busy at home and work that it's only now during the weekend that I got to update the story. Please keep on reading, and thank you. As always, your review is appreciated!**


	3. Alas My Love, You Do Me Wrong

**I know, it's been long! Again, work and things at home needed to be attended to. But here's the third chapter. This one marks the point where Thomas would start bullying William, and Daisy would start being obvious about her infatuation with Thomas. It's been so hard to write, but I got to finish it. Hope you guys liked it!**

* * *

_March 1912_

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_Imagine, me working as a footman for two whole months already! How are both of you? I hope you are well. I am looking forward to May, when I will be able to visit you before the family leaves for London (Mr. Carson will take both Thomas and me there as we would be needed). Fancy that, going to London to see the sights! Hopefully, I'll be able to send some postcards from there when the time comes._

_How are things at the farm? Has Starlight grown? And when will Silverspot give birth to her foal? _

_Everybody's busy upstairs and downstairs, what with Ladies Mary and Edith preparing for their Season. And of course, her Ladyship, the Countess. I didn't know what the Season is, but I asked Anna and Daisy, and they told me that it's the time where posh folk like Lord Grantham and his family go to London and attend dinner parties, watch plays, see the opera (I don't know what that is too-I'll be bound to find out, anyway) and go to balls. And speaking of balls, Lady Mary and Lady Edith are for once, not squabbling over the same seamstress. I can't imagine sisters quarrelling over things like that-but then again, who am I to say anything? Lady Sybil, on the other hand, doesn't seem to care. Then again, she is only my age-seventeen, so she's not bound to come out into society yet. At least, that's what Anna says. _

_Anna, Daisy, and Gwen have been so nice to me. They are very patient about explaining things, and so is Mrs. Hughes. I am still terrified of Mr. Carson, but Anna reassures me that while he is very strict, his heart's in the right place. His bark, she says, is always worse than his bite, and that I shouldn't be afraid to ask him questions if she and Gwen cannot help me._

_Mr. Watson, his Lordship's valet left. We never knew the reason why-he wrote to Mr. Carson, and poor Mr. Carson was dismayed, and didn't want to tell us why. Which induced him to give a litany to us at breakfast that we should behave like Caesar's wife. Whoever she was, she must have been saintly-or very, very good. Like butter won't melt in her mouth. Anyway, it meant that he would keep a tight rein on us male servants, and Mrs. Hughes will do the same for the female servants. Why there will be courting, I cannot imagine. _

_It was nice to see you in church last Sunday. And you were able to meet Daisy. She's a sweet little person, and very friendly besides. I think that she and I are going to be very good friends. _

_Would have loved to write more, but Mr. Carson has asked me to polish the candlesticks. _

_With much love, William_

Just as he put the flap down on the envelope, William could hear Mr. Carson call him again. "William, I know you miss your family dearly, but when you intend to get on in service, time set for tasks should be _strictly _adhered to."

William sighed. But he knew Mr. Carson was right. He rather liked the gruff man. Mr. Carson reminded him of his Uncle Vinnie in Ripon who died after drinking a cup of cocoa and finished reading his favourite novel. It was one of these summers where he stayed with them for a holiday-a few days at least. He remembered Aunt Tilly screaming blue murder when she woke him for tea and he wouldn't wake. It was a holiday he didn't forget. And never would. He followed Mr. Carson to his pantry, where he opened the silver cupboard, and started taking out the candlesticks, and the bottle of polish. It seemed that Thomas dumped the task on him, but he was willing to do it anyway. After all, if he wanted to be a butler-well, his mother did, but he wanted to make her happy-he should toe the line, and learn everything that needs to be learned. Oddly, he liked the task-it was amazing to see how things be made clean-sparkling, even.

Mr. Carson looked at the pieces of silver William had finished polishing. "Well, my boy. This looks better than the last time. At least I could see my face now." William was sure he saw a ghost of a chuckle. "You learn fast." He looked up from the cream jug-the last piece of silver he was polishing, and said, "Thank you Mr. Carson." The older man nodded at him, and handed him a set of keys. Put these back in the cupboard and then you give the keys to me. I'll be in the servants' hall."

"Yes, Mr. Carson." William nodded.

* * *

Miles away from Downton, was a couple having their tea.

Abner Mason took the last scone from the plate, which his wife whisked away to replenish it. "I'll pour you the tea," he offered, to which his wife graciously accepted. Spooning some cream over the scone and then some apple butter over it, Constantia Mason asked, "So what do you think of William's new friend?"

Her husband grinned teasingly. "Now Connie, don't start," and Constantia laughed. "Now, heavens, Abner. I didn't mean that. It's nice for William to have friends. I did think he'd take to the other footman, but it appears that he doesn't."

"The other footman isn't a nice sort," said Abner Mason, rather shortly.

"Oh?"

"When we were at church, he made all sorts of cutting remarks at William."

"How can he? William never did anyone harm." Constantia was alarmed.

"Life is full of mysteries," Abner Mason replied in a tone that ended the subject of "the other footman" He took his wife's cup and poured tea into it. "But Mr. Carson tells me that everyone-from His Lordship to the stable boys like him. So the problem is not on our boy's end." His wife, reassured, erased the worried look from her face. "It's plain to see William likes the kitchen maid." She smiled. "It's funny. I've always thought he was blind to that sort of thing. Well, if it inspires him to work better, then we'll say no more about it."

Abner Mason only smiled.

Constantia sipped her tea and closed her eyes, which prompted her husband to ask, "My dear, are you ill?"

She shook her head. "No. Just thinking."

And she was. She was thinking that she had a lot to be happy for. She had a good job before she married Abner. Because of a well-to-do grandmother, she was able to go to school and be trained to become a teacher. Her three years at the Downton village school gave her enough to put something by. So when she gave her vows, she was twenty two, and he was nearing thirty.

Abner was a good man. A good husband and a good father. Losing four children was hard on them both, but they had William. An angel of a son, if ever there was one. Never gave them a moment's worry. People thought that he was simple-minded, but he was a clever boy-in the ways that mattered. And their family was never short of love. Constantia was reminded of William's friend, Daisy, the kitchen maid. William once wrote that the poor girl never really experienced proper care and love in her family. And her son had plenty of it.

Her son surely is a lucky-no, _blessed_ boy.

* * *

If Gwen Dawson wasn't exasperated minutes before, she was now. Daisy Robinson may be a sweet person, but she can be daft sometimes. Like this moment. Mrs. Patmore just finished making the Nesselrode pudding, and Daisy was supposed to take it to somewhere cold to keep the ice from melting.

While mooning over Thomas Barrow, for the _umpteenth_ time. What the girl saw in him, was one of the greatest mysteries in the world. The first footman was handsome all right, but mean as a snake, and every word he uttered dripped of venom. But Daisy was speaking of him as if the sun shone on his backside! And now that he was playing temporary valet, the airs he's put on!

"Listen, you goon. Thomas isn't what you think he is. He's...mean as a snake!"

"But why?" Daisy was perplexed. "I think he's funny."

"It's nothing funny if your words drip of venom."

Just then, Mrs. Patmore bustled her way into the kitchen. "Now, now, Gwen. Take the puss off your face and leave the girl to do her own thinking. You know what they say, there is none so blind as those who will not see." To Daisy, she said, "Daisy! Do you ever think that the fairies will lay the table for you? Get a move on, and do it yourself before they play a prank on you and hide the spoons instead!" Daisy gave Mrs. Patmore a bewildered look, and scuttled off to the cupboard.

"I've told her and told her, Mrs. Patmore." Gwen moaned. To this, the older red-haired woman shook her head. "She'll get herself sorted soon. I hope."

"Well, I hope so," Gwen sighed. "I know who's clean gone on her; I'm not telling who, but I think you know what I'm talking about." That roused Beryl Patmore's curiosity. _Was Gwen thinking of the same person? William? That nice, young new footman? Mind, he's good-looking enough. And he's a very sweet boy. Daisy is too young to think about sweet-hearting, but if she wasn't, she could do better with William. _

_ Apparently she's setting her sights on somebody else._

She shook her head and tried to think of dinner, instead of figuratively blind kitchen maids and infatuated young footmen.

* * *

In the pantry, William Mason surveyed his work. He thought that he did rather well, compared to what he did months ago. All of the silver gleamed-sparkled, even. Mr. Carson was satisfied as well. "This is good. Carry on with that, my boy." William turned to look at him, and he beamed. Just then, Thomas Barrow came in, having just arrived from a trip to the village, and came into the pantry to change into his livery.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Carson, William," he drawled, as he rifled through the narrow closet which housed the footmen's liveries. After finding his livery, he turned to the two men-one rather middle aged, the other, a young man, _practically a boy._ He said nothing, looked at the candlesticks, and the rest of the silver, and said, "They're not polished enough." Carson looked at the bewildered William, and thundered, "Well, if you didn't like how they turned out, why didn't you do it yourself?" Thomas shrugged, and walked out of the pantry.

Thomas took two steps at a time as he climbed the stairs to change. He was irritated, and inordinately jealous of the new footman. Well, technically, William wasn't _new _anymore as he was already three months into his job, but still-he considered the boy new. Mr. Carson may not admit it, but he seemed to be a _soft touch _on the new boy. Come to think of it, William wasn't the sharpest knife in the servants' hall. Him and Daisy both. It was amazing how easily one could wind up a girl and make her look like the sun shone out of his-never mind.

_William Mason has to know that Thomas Barrow was boss._ And Thomas knew the boy's Achilles' heel-Daisy Robinson, the simpering, pale bit of nobody, and found from God only knew where. Thomas knew that the boy was infatuated with the girl. William Mason was as transparent as the windows of the Abbey. Not really surprising for a country bumpkin like him.

* * *

At the servants' hall, Daisy made sure that everything was in order. Plates, spoons, cups, all ready for tea at six. Just then, William took a peep through the entry, and asked, "Daisy, are you there?" To which Daisy called, "In here. Just making sure everything's ready for tea." William then walked in and asked, "Can I help?" Daisy shook her head.

The two friends were enjoying a companionable chatter about how each other's day went, when Thomas walked in. "William, haven't you got something else to do?" he snapped. William shook his head. "Well, go on make yourself useful," he drawled. Thomas smiled at Daisy, who, to William, looked like she was in the highest heaven in delight.

William sighed. _Oh, I get it. She's crazy about Thomas. _

Right then and there, he felt as if a vise was slicing through his heart.


End file.
